


Kilojoules

by Eufry



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: If you thought Diggle wouldn't get a mention, you're wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eufry/pseuds/Eufry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity finds herself sitting next to Oliver and stuck in a train in the middle of nowhere. Did she mention how much she hates trains?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kilojoules

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd, looked over, taken care of by the lovely and ever-amazing [Rikke_leonhart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rikke_leonhart/pseuds/Rikke_Leonhart). You are the absolute *best*, I cannot thank you enough. 
> 
> Prompt found on [tumblr](http://ohmypreciousgirl.tumblr.com/post/84049820227/obligatory-aus-i-really-want-post); title because I like the song by Freelance Whales of the same name!
> 
> (If it wasn't noticeable, I'm not fond of trains.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Their train has stopped. In the middle of nowhere. Their train _has_ _stopped in the middle of nowhere_. It's raining outside and Felicity isn't necessarily one to panic - okay, depending on the situation, fine - but the train didn't just stop. It stopped after slowing to an excruciatingly slow pace, and the track is _slanted_. What kind of engineer ever thought this was a good idea, anyway?

"So, remind me again why we had to take a train?"

She huffs and turns her head from the window to glare at Oliver. She expects him to look perfectly calm. He is, in fact, looking a little fidgety. Which is new, considering there isn't any super villains around. He looks down for a second and clears his throat.

"I felt it was more discreet than the private jet. We need discretion on our side if we want the mission to go smoothly." He says, his voice low and seemingly calm. But Felicity knows better. He is _so not_ calm.

To be fair, she isn't either. She's already tried to make rough calculations in her head to determine what strength would the wind need to topple over the train. She has no idea- there are too many variables and she only has a handful of theoretical physics college courses to work with. It isn't much, but she's already too busy thinking about what other worst case scenarios might be the cause for their train stopping. She isn't ruling out a zombie apocalypse just yet.

She briefly notes that their wagon is half empty, and is grateful that they're in first class. She's not sure she could have handled noisy children (being eaten by zombies?) and inexistent knee space.

"Well, top choice, there, Oliver." She mutters, and he's looking at her with an eyebrow raised. "What?" She asks, and she knows it comes out snappy, but she can't help it. She's not particularly a fan of closed spaces and bent-at-awkward-angles vehicles.

"You're breathing really quickly." He says, and there is no annoyance in his voice, just curiosity- and concern, probably. She sighs.

"Not really comfortable with," she pauses briefly and waves with both hands at their surroundings "all of this." At his confused look, she rolls her eyes. "No escape? Small space? The fact that whoever built these rails clearly didn't know what a spirit level is, and also, the really crappy weather." After a beat, he nods slowly, his eyes unwavering.

She can't help herself; "Also, you look agitated," she points to his right hand, where his index finger is tapping rhythmically on his thumb, "and it's not helping my stress levels."

He quickly stills his hand and opens his mouth, then closes it when it looks like he can't get any word out. He shifts a little in his seat, so that he's leaning closer to her and his body is angled towards hers - and she's not sure if he's doing that so that she feels protected, because she knows Oliver notices these kinds of things, or because he doesn't want to be heard - and lowers his gaze to her hands. They are sitting in her lap, engrossed in a battle of which will wring the other's fingers the most painfully.

He slowly puts his left hand over hers, and she stops. She focuses intently on her lips and other body parts not shaking from the adrenaline she knows is fueling her body and paranoia right now.

"I don't like cramped places either." He says in an almost whisper, "Ever since the island." She nods, her eyes looking at his, which are still fixed on his hand over hers. "I also don't like being idle." He adds, almost as an afterthought, and she feels the corner of her mouth lift, just slightly.

He shifts his eyes to hers and offers her the hint of a smile himself.

"So is this why you don't like wearing clothes?" She says, her tone trying to be light, and she would smack her palm on her forehead if her hands weren't otherwise engaged, and if she didn't know that her non-filtered ramble is exactly what Oliver needs right now - an easy distraction.

He lets out a faint chuckle and looks at the ceiling for a second, then back at her.

"Because of the _island_." She nods pointedly, lowering her voice on the last word while trying to maintain a serious face, and he's pinching his lips. (She tries to contain how smug she feels at him trying not to smile.)

"Actually, the former involved a boat and a submarine - an experience I don't ever wish to repeat." His eyebrows are furrowed, but his eyes dance when he tilts his head, "the amount of clothing I choose to wear is just a preference based on where I am. And what I'm doing."

She's 120% he wants to add "and who I'm with" and isn't just to spite her. She purses her lips, and feels his hand tighten over hers, fingertips brushing against her wrist, his thumb hovering over her knuckles.

"Thanks for clarifying, then." she says, and while her tone is still playful, she knows how soft her voice is at the way Oliver's eyes close for one second too long for it to be simply blinking.

He nods, and she takes that as his unspoken "You're welcome."

Well. She still feels like she might die of a zombie attack in the next hour, but at least she'll die knowing Oliver's shirtlessness is a _preference_. She can't help but giggle. Over and over.

Oliver is looking half-amused. And half-worried. Probably at her insanity.

"Sorry, just," she shakes her head, "nerves, I think?" She says, biting on her lower lip, and Oliver chuckles.

"Okay." He sighs, and he looks resigned, but at what, she's not sure. Until he lifts the armrest between the two of them - she made _sure_ it was down as soon as she sat down because she gets distracted by his body when in close quarters - and slips his right arm around her shoulder, pulling her to his side.

She lets out a muffled "Huh?" and is staring at him from way too close. "What. What?" She all but mumbles.

"You of all people should know that body contact and hugs are a great way to reduce stress and lower your heart rate." He explains, his voice all matter-of-factly, and she almost pouts.

"Well, thanks for your medical expertise, I guess." She shifts a bit, pondering on how awkward this is. "I should probably hug Dig next time he gets shot at a political rally." She muses, and feels Oliver's chest rise as he chuckles.

"Well." He starts, then glances at her sideways, before putting on the most sheepish of expressions. "You looked like you needed a hug."

Laughter bubbles out of her as she props her forehead on his shoulder; tangles two of her fingers with three of his. "Don't pretend you didn't need one, too." She says after regaining her composure, and he shrugs as she looks up, grinning at him.

The train slowly starts back up, and as Felicity lets out a shuddery and relieved breath, Oliver squeezes her right shoulder. "You okay?" He whispers, and she nods, grateful.

He doesn't let go, and she allows herself to close her eyes for the rest of the journey.


End file.
